Juxtaposition : Just A Position
by Jessica Simpson-Bourget
Summary: Additional scene for "Any Friend of Diane's". What happened after Rebecca Prout left Sam and Diane alone on the office couch.


The door closed gingerly behind Rebecca, and Diane stared after her for a few seconds longer, ascertaining that this time, she was gone for real. The whole situation was so ridiculous, she couldn't help laughing when she finally exhaled. Sam could feel her laughter against him and chuckled, relieved she wasn't taking another swing at him.

"Did you see her face?" Diane howled, eyes welling up with giddy tears.

"You should've seen _your_ face! 'You'll find it, Rebecca.' Ha!'"

"She actually believed we were…"

"I know!"

The laughter trailed off and they were left with the reality of the situation- Diane's body resting comfortably on Sam's behind a closed office door.

Diane was suddenly aware of the warmth of him on her torso… her body nestled against him... his arm supporting her back… his fingers playing lightly at her waist. They just seemed to fit. And somehow, defying every olfactory sensibility she ever possessed, his cologne smelled... _nice_. Shocked by their position, yet even more surprised at how good it felt, she made the conscious decision _not _to jump up and play indignant, but to let the moment ride and see what happened. Of course, she could never let _him_ know it was a conscious choice, so she decided on a diversion.

"Boy, that Rebecca is something, isn't she?"

"Yeah. She's too much something," Sam countered.

Like Diane, he was all too aware of their proximity, and was doing his damnedest not to chase her off. Less than a minute ago, he was carrying her across the room as she fought every step of the way. Light as a feather she was, though. How she managed that with legs as long as hers he'd never know. Her waist was trim and he liked how it seemed custom-made to fit right in the curve of his thumb and index finger. His other hand was occupied roaming up and down her back. She really wasn't wearing a bra. He'd long suspected it was an optional undergarment for her, but now he knew for sure and couldn't be more turned on. He started thinking of baseball statistics, but found that thinking of Rebecca had the same effect. Thus, he was able to turn his attention to the immediate situation with some degree of clarity.

"So you really didn't like her, huh?" Diane asked.

"Ah, she'd have been okay, but she couldn't stop talking… and you know, those poems of hers… are they for real?"

"Oh yes, yes they are!" Diane laughed. "Russian poetry was never my cup of tea."

"Thank God! I'd have booted you out of here that first night!"

"Oh no you wouldn't have!" Diane protested.

"Yeah, I probably wouldn't've. You're lucky you're so damn cute," Sam muttered, at first averting his eyes, then looking to see her reaction.

Diane smiled coyly, her fingers tracing the seam on his shirt sleeve. "Why Sam, you think I'm cute?"

Sam could see she was eating this up, and couldn't help smiling himself.

"Sweetheart, you know you're cute. You don't need me to tell you that."

He could feel her relax a little into his arms and all was right with the world.

"I didn't know _you_ thought so," she murmured, looking up at him from under a veil of heavy lids and lashes.

If he didn't know better, he'd take this as an invitation, but having been tossed heels over head onto the pool table not too long ago, he would assume nothing.

"Well, I do. You talk a lot of nonsense, but you're cute. It's why I keep you around," he grinned.

"'Nonsense'?! _I_ talk nonsense? Sam Malone, I'll have you know that…"

"Come on now, simmer down," he interrupted, his hand once again moving over her back, "You're nothing like Rebecca. I'm joking."

"Well, it sure didn't sound like it," she mused, eyes downcast. "I know you think I'm a little hard to take... you've made no secret of that."

"Hey, look at me."

He tilted her chin up and her eyes met his. Wide and periwinkle blue, they seemed to swallow him whole, and he lost his train of thought. She was so close. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. Damn it, what was he going to say again?

Diane was lost herself. She'd never noticed just how blue his eyes were, and at this angle in this light, they were incredible. She saw his tongue dart over his lips, and found herself mirroring him without thinking.

Her now wet lips glistened pink, and it was too much for him.

"Unh…" he gasped involuntarily. What the hell was the matter with him? He couldn't close this deal to save his life. He couldn't remember his own name. He was struck by how completely powerless he felt, wanting her so badly, but afraid to make a move and drive her away forever. He just needed to make this moment last.

"Uhhh," she breathed, equally paralyzed. How could she let him know she wanted him without becoming one of his black book entries? She knew he could break her heart if she let him. She needed more than one night with him, and yet this very moment was so perfect. Dare she take it any further?

She found her hand resting on his, and as if watching someone else, saw their fingers slowly, tentatively entwining. His hands were somehow hard yet smooth, the callouses of baseball seasons long past filed away until a tough softness remained. His fingers were long and she watched in wonder as they slipped between her own. The warmth of his touch, and the resultant increase in her heart rate brought her back into her own body, and her breathing grew shallow seeing her hand disappear into his. This was happening.

He ran his thumb up and down the outside of hers, lingering on the curve of her wrist. So pale and delicate, like a china doll. Soft, yet cool to the touch, with impeccably groomed nails- no small feat for a waitress. She was perfect down to her fingertips. It dawned on him that he was holding her hand and it felt really, really good. His heart beat so hard and fast in his chest, it reverberated in his eardrums. What was happening?

Lost in their slow-motion enchantment for a long minute, there came a loud knock at the office door.

"Sam?" It was Coach. The doorknob turned with a click and Diane jumped to her feet, quickly smoothing out her blouse and skirt. She suddenly felt woozy and wasn't sure if it was from jumping up too quickly or from what had just transpired.

"Sam, there's a fella out here dancing on the bar- Normy's boss. Norm can't get 'im down. Whaddaya wanna do? Give 'im the boot or what? He's not half bad."

Sam sat up slowly, re-entering the world from the golden Diane Chambers spell he'd found himself under. He bowed his head and shook it in frustration, a slow smile stealing across his face. Coach's timing was topped only by his story.

Just as well, he thought. He had no idea what was going to happen next, and that just wasn't like him at all. The uncertainty, which he ordinarily thrived on, made him nervous where she was concerned. He needed some time to sort this out and get his mojo back. Rising to his feet, he felt himself beginning to recover.

"Depends, Coach. Is he cute?"

He winked knowingly at Diane, and she felt a tingle of electricity run down her spine. Sharing a secret grin, they went out to watch the spectacle.


End file.
